Backstage Plan
by E.M.K.81
Summary: Meg Giry has some brains and does not kidnap Gustave but has other plans to get what she wants. One shot. Rated T to be save. Erik, Meg, Raoul and Christine are the main characters, others have brief appearances.


**Backstage Plan**

 _Summary: Meg Giry has some brains and does not kidnap Gustave but has other plans to get what she wants. One shot._

Meg stood behind the stage, listening as Christine sang. Of course she sang. When had HE - the Phantom, Mr. Y or, as she had learned by chance, Erik - ever made any bet if he wasn't absolutely sure to win? He never gambled unless he knew for sure he would win. But now she knew exactly what his game was and she wouldn't have it, not after all she had been through for his sake. "Look for the natural ally," he had told her once, "the one with the same goal as yours, he'll help you purely out of selfishness, you can always count on everyone being a selfish bastard." This had been his words, and his success had proven him right. And now she would heed his advice. She had been an eager pupil - only he had never seen it, being far too obsessed with Christine.

Raoul was about to leave the building when Meg stopped him. "Please, Monsieur, I have some important news," she said.  
"Nothing is important now," Raoul muttered, tears streaming from his eyes.  
"Everything is important now, Monsieur, for I know him, he never looses in a gamble and do you know why? Because he cheats," she said.  
"How could he cheat in this one? She sang!"  
Meg laughed. "You're so naive! How did you think he made a fortune here in Coney Island? Why do you think he owns Phantasma - and not only Phantasma, he owns shares of nearly every business here, be it restaurant, cafe, sideshow, fun ride, shooting gallery, even the dogfight pits, the cockfight pits, the nightclubs and the brothels. His hand is in everything in Coney Island and do you know why? Because if any businessman doesn't want his body to be found floating in the sea he gives him shares. You think he came to that by playing fair?"  
"What do you suggest we do?" Raoul asked. He did not know why Meg was helping him, but he was grateful for every help he could get now.

Christine came from the stage, her head reeling from the emotions that song had evoked in her. The masked man was standing there, his arms spread, a wide smile on his face. "You are truly my Angel of Music!" he said, taking her in his arms, gently leading her to her dressing room. He supposed the dressing room to be empty but it wasn't. Meg was sitting in a chair, smiling.

"Meg? What are you doing here?" he snapped annoyed.  
"I just wanted to congratulate my dearest friend Christine," Meg said.  
"Where are Raoul and Gustave?" Christine asked worriedly.  
"Don't worry, they are with Fleck - she shows them Phantasma," Meg said, then turned to Christine: "You were wonderful, as usual. My heartfelt congratulations!"  
When the two women embraced and kissed like they had done eleven years ago, Erik did not know what to make of it. He knew Meg was up to something and he did not like it. If he was alone with her he would have known how to get her to confess her scheme but with Christine as a witness he could do nothing until he knew what she was up to.

A knock at the door and Raoul came in, smiling at Christine and kissing her softly.  
"What are you doing here?" the Phantom hissed and was about to push him away, out of the room. Then he realized that this would give away his bet with the Vicomte and Christine wouldn't like that. He took a step back and tried to calm himself.

"So, my dear Christine, you want the place at his side?" Meg said, sitting down again, smiling viciously, pointing to Erik.  
"What? Meg, what are you talking about?" Christine asked, confused.  
"I'll kill you!" Erik hissed under his breath.  
"O? You didn't know anything? My dear Christine, did you not learn that HE," Meg pointed to Erik, "does nothing without purpose?" Meg got up from her chair and stepped closer to Erik. "Didn't you tell Christine of your bet with the Vicomte? Of your gamble? Of the stake?" Erik bit his lip and Raoul paled. Christine looked confused from one man to the other, both suddenly nervous. Meg went on: "O naive Christine, you really didn't know? Why, they made a bet and you were the price. If you sing, you belong to Erik, if you don't you belong to Raoul and he gets the money nevertheless."

"You... you did WHAT?" Christine gasped. She could not believe how the two men she loved the most in the world could do something like that.  
"Don't listen to her!" Erik cried out, "Meg is ill, she's very ill, she does not know what she is saying." He glared at Meg, his eyes telling the blonde dancer just how angry he was at her. He would have her head for this.

"Ill, am I?" Meg asked, positioning herself next to Christine, putting her arm around the Vicomtess in camaraderie, as she went on: "Look, if you want the place at his side, you need to know a few things about him. If he says 'I would never force you, but...' say no. Whatever it is, say no, because it is always the same: he's in a mess and needs somebody to clean up for him and do something even he is too disgusted to do. Sleep with the taxman, the police commander and the judge of this district on regular basis. He always needs them to look the other way every so often. Don't forget to be nice with the bank manager just in case he suddenly needs a credit. Be nice with his lawyers, they'll help you clean up his mess."

"That's enough! Meg, I won't have one more word from you!" Erik roared, ready to strangle her with his bare hands then and there, not caring if anyone would watch him, not even Christine. He stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed that Meg had a gun, pointing the gun first to Christine, then, as she realized he wouldn't dare to attack her now, at him.

"But she should know, shouldn't she?" Meg went on, "She has a right to know, doesn't she?"

"Do not believe one word from her! She's mad!" Erik exclaimed, "She's utterly obsessed with me as I am with you - you can't trust her!" Only then did he realize that he had said too much for now Christine was staring at him and something in her eyes told him that she believed Meg and not him.

Meg went on triumphantly: "Make sure he gets enough food and sleep. He always forgets that. But take care that he does not start with the drugs again, he's through four withdrawals by now and I'm not sure how long he stays clean this time. Yes, Erik, you don't need to look down at the Vicomte for his drinking - you're no better than he is. If I hadn't nursed you through your withdrawals you'd ended up in the gutter, selling everything for your drugs."

"Meg, that's more than enough!" Erik warned her, but did not dare to come closer to her. She still had the gun, pointing at him and Christine alternately.

"Ah, but there's one more thing and this is something the Vicomte de Chagny has a right to know," Meg stated, "Then you can kill me if you like."

"You wouldn't dare!" Erik hissed, but he wasn't sure himself just how far Meg would go now.

"Of course I will! Monsieur le Vicomte - your bet was that if Christine sings she chooses Erik and stays with him and you leave alone. If she does not sing she chooses you and you take her away and get the money nevertheless, isn't it?"

Raoul stood there, his head lowered in shame, as Christine asked him if that was really true.

"Yes, it is. I'm sorry," Raoul confessed. He could not side with the monster now and deny it, better confess his sin and accept whatever punishment was to come.

"What you did not know, my poor naive Vicomte, is that Mr. Y never plays fair. He only places a bet when he knows for sure he'll win. He already had your wife's promise to sing, if not for him, then for her love to you for you really need that money to save your family's estates. He warned her that you would be jealous and ask her not to sing but if she loved him or if she loved you, no matter, she should sing that song."

Christine sank to the chair, she was close to faint. "You... you really said that. What have you done? Tell me the truth, what have you done? What have you done to Meg? Is it true what she said?" she whispered.

Erik stood there, his face in his hands. Everything was going wrong now, everything. He had counted on everything but never on Meg betraying him. Never. He had never believed her to be clever enough for a betrayal like that. And then there was one more thing that suddenly was on his conscience - he had unknowingly said the truth when he had said that Meg was obsessed with him as he was obsessed with Christine. He should have known, he should have noticed and... he should have helped her. He had used her, but when he had not needed her, he had pushed her away. He knew exactly how she felt and he felt guilty. He had hurt her in the same way he had been hurt far too often. He had become the monster he always hated the most since his childhood. The very same monster, inflicting the same pain on Meg he himself had suffered.

He forced himself to look at Christine and Meg. Both women now standing in front of him, barely inches away from his face. Should he deny everything now? Claim that Meg was mad? Or confess the truth and suffer the consequences?

"Tell me, if you ever loved me, if there ever was a small glimmer of goodness in your black soul, tell me the truth!" Christine demanded, then suddenly grabbed his shirt with both hands, yelling at him: "IS IT TRUE?"

He stood there unmoving as he whispered: "It is true. I am sorry, every word she spoke is true."

"You are a monster," Christine exclaimed horrified, "You are even more mad than you were in Paris! You are exactly the monster Raoul told me you were, yet I would not believe him."

"I am sorry, I never meant..."

"Never meant WHAT?" Meg asked mockingly, "Why did you do it if you never meant to do it? Hmmm? The great Mr. Y obviously does not know what he is doing."

"Meg, please, you had your revenge on me. Please, stop it now."

"My revenge? O yes, all the humiliation I suffered for your sake - today I spit it right back in your face! Today you'll pay the price for ten long years of making me suffer!" Meg yelled.

"What do you want?" Erik asked desperately, "Meg, tell me - what do you want?"

"I want you," Meg said calmly, "You as my husband."

"What?" Erik, Christine and Raoul exclaimed astonished.

"You owe me that much," Meg stated calmly, "You owe me that much. So, what is it? Don't forget you even have me being nice to journalists - shall I tell them the headline of the year is to be "Coney Island Marriage" or "Scandal on Coney Island" for if I tell everything I know of your dirty secrets I helped covering up, it will be quite a scandal, don't you think?"

Christine was the first one to recover. She slapped Erik hard across the face, his head jerking back with the blow. "You bastard!" she yelled at him, "Don't you dare say no to her now! Don't you dare!"

Erik got up, facing Meg now. He took the gun from her hand, she did not even try to resist. "You know me - I am a selfish monster and take what I can. If it is you I can have, let it be. You can have me in return but I think I made the better deal by far."

Megs demeanor changed immediately. She was all smiles now. "A marriage! O yeah! Right now, then and there - come on, I'll just get my mother and tell the others. All employees of Phantasma should celebrate with us, come on, help me dig up a priest right now! A donation to whatever charity he runs and he'll wed us tonight."

"Tonight? But... but..." Erik was taken aback and had no time to get his bearings.

"No, you'll marry me tonight before you have time to reconsider!" Meg exclaimed, opened the door and screamed the news to everyone who could hear her on top of her lungs.

It did not take long and Erik was being pushed out of the dressing room with Meg at his side, his employees, especially the disfigured ones, congratulating him, cheering and laughing.

"To Mr. Y who gave us freaks our dignity back!" one shouted, raising a glass. It was easy to celebrate at Phantasma for Phantasma was build for entertainment and celebrating.  
"To Mr. Y who freed us from the sideshow masters!"  
"To Mr. Y who protects us!"  
"To Mr. and Mrs. Y! May they be blessed with many children!"

"O yes, I'd like twelve," Meg answered.

"T...t...tw...el...el...elve? TWELVE?" Erik stuttered. Could that night get any worse?

It could, for Madame Giry of course had heard the news and rushed to them, ready to embrace her son in law to be, kissing his cheek. Erik was too stunned to push her away. "My dear Erik, my dear Meg, I am so happy for you! O Erik, please, I want to be a mother to you from now on, please, call me mother."  
"Madame..."  
"No, it's mother now, my dear boy," Madame Giry exclaimed happily.  
Erik eyed her suspiciously. Just how long had she been prepared to say that sentence? How long had she tried to get him to fall in love with Meg? Not that he loved Meg but he had agreed to marry her. Sort of. He considered to take a trip to Washington. Maybe Washington needed a well run sideshow too?  
"I hope you will give me many grandchildren," Madame Giry said, embracing her daughter, "Of course I will help you raise them, take care of them, you can rely on me as babysitter..."  
Okay, Washington would be far too close. Russia? China? Egypt?

"I got the priest!" Gangle cried, pulling a drowsy young priest behind him.

No, no, no! This was not right - HE was still the master of Phantasma, he was the one to make decisions. But right now he was helpless, everything was out of his control and gathered momentum of its own.

The priest, who had lived at Coney Island since he was a child, wasn't surprised. He knew Phantasma and its inhabitants. They were crazy, all of them, and always good for a surprise. A surprise wedding at three o'clock in the night. Why not? This was a sideshow after all, these freaks gave a damn on rules and customs. His only surprise was that the groom was the notorious Mr. Y himself, marrying the lead dancer of his show. Well, this was Coney Island.

Erik found himself being pushed to the makeshift altar - it was nothing but a table from the cafeteria - and suddenly Christine, Raoul and Gustave were at his side.  
"Congratulations, Erik, I am so happy for you," Christine grinned at him.  
"Fleck showed me Phantasma! It's great! Mum, Dad, please - can we stay for the next weekend? I want to see the weekend shows!" Gustave, who did not understand what was going on, begged.  
"Ask my friend Mr. Y," Christine answered.  
"Mr. Y, please, can we stay here? Just until next Saturday, I want to see the weekend show Fleck told me about?" the boy asked.  
"Whatever you want," Erik groaned. He did not care, he had no idea how to get out of this. Caught in his own snare, he mused. He was definitely too good in setting up traps, he himself couldn't escape now.

The wedding ceremony was over in a matter of minutes, Erik did not remember saying yes but obviously everyone else remembered him saying yes, for they just went on to the wedding party. A party was no problem - there were enough restaurants and bars nearby, some of them being a part of Phantasma, so it was not difficult to get some food and drinks.

He found himself at a bar, a glass of champagne in his hand, Meg, still wearing her yellow dress, at his side, she was all smiles and giggling and laughing with the other dancing girls and the female freaks - or, as he preferred to call them, the 'stars of Phantasma'. He didn't like the word 'freak'.

"Of course you have to get rid of that doll you have in your office. You are far too old to be playing with dolls," Madame Giry whispered at his side.  
"How dare you?"  
"If you want something to kneel down and worship, get a painting of the Blessed Virgin Mary. But if the Blessed Virgin Mary looks like Christine and the child like Gustave, you're in trouble!"  
No, Russia or China were far too close to New York. South Africa? Australia? Yes, Australia would be nice...

Meg took Christine aside at some time. She wanted to show her something, Meg kept in her apartment.  
"I do not understand why you married him," Christine said, "I believe now that the only right deed he ever did was leaving me."  
"That's what I wanted to show you," Meg answered, "For our friendship. We have always been friends, haven't we? I don't want us to be enemies now. He's not worth that."  
"No, he's not," Christine agreed, "Right now I think no man is."

Meg took out some papers from a drawer and handed them to Christine. It were booklets. Each of them reading "The Stars of Phantasma" and the year.  
"He's selling them," Meg smiled, "Because he thinks that Americans are all about money. If he would just give the booklets away for free no one would want them. If he sells them, everyone wants them. And he was right, they became collectibles. Children collect them and on the "Meet the Stars" evenings ask for autographs from the so called stars. There's quite a hero worship around the freaks, o pardon, the 'Stars of Phantasma'." There was a certain bitterness in her voice.

Christine opened a booklet. On the first page there was a text.  
"Dear reader,  
I don't know you but I really hope we will get better acquainted in the future. I have been asked frequently why I build Phantasma and run it the way I do. Why a sideshow? Why call them 'the Stars of Phantasma' and not just 'freaks'? Well, here is the answer: I am deformed. Since I was a child I have been shunned, humiliated, abused and mistreated only because I look different than you do. It's not my fault that I am not as beautiful as you are. I dared to ask for love and acceptance only once in my life, only to find that I could not risk to ruin her life so I had to leave her. I hope she is well and happy now because I still love her.  
When I came to Coney Island I had nothing, nothing but my talent and my diligence but I found that no one cared for them if they come with a face like mine. When I was hired by a freakshow and put on display like an animal in the zoo I learned that there are others like me, shunned, humiliated and abused, selling themselves for a piece of bread and a blanket in the night, selling their bodies and souls. But everyone of them has his or her own talent. So I decided to give them a place where their talents would be appreciated like everyone else's. Phantasma is not a sideshow nor a freakshow. No. It is a dreamworld, where great artists work together to bring the best show in the world to the stage. But not everyone dreams of becoming a showman. Some would rather be fireman, policeman, nurse, tailor or whatever.  
I dream of a day when I close down Phantasma, for it will no longer be needed because no one will know what the word 'freak' actually means.  
If we happen to meet in person, and I really hope we will do, please see me as what I actually am: I am a man like you.  
Your obedient friend,  
Mr. Y."

"He has this letter in every booklet," Meg said, "The first one was printed when he bought the sideshow five years ago and renamed it Phantasma. It was much smaller then and he was struggling to pay the installments. That's when he turned toward blackmail and fraud, for he knew he couldn't pay it with the profit from the Phantasma shows, not even with the merchandise."

"Weren't you dancing back then?" Christine asked for she could find pictures of every 'Star of Phantasma' but not Meg and the dancing girls.  
"Of course I was!" Meg cried out, weeping bitterly, "But he only saw the freaks - he never saw me! He treated me like I was nothing but a stage prop! It took me two years to convince him that he should include the normal looking participants to the booklet and then he just did it because he liked my argument that it would serve his purpose to present freaks and normal people side by side."

She tossed another booklet at Christine. It was two years old.  
The first side was the usual letter, then there was a picture of "the magic of Mr. Y and his lovely assistant Meg". There was Erik - Mr. Y - wearing a long black cloak and his mask, his arms wide spread as if he was conducting an orchestra, behind him some stage props. At his side Meg, making a curtsey. She looked so very tiny and fragile, lost and helpless. "You don't know how hard I had to fight to get him to mention my name," Meg said, "He just wanted 'lovely assistant', making me replaceable. I know he'd rather have you as his 'lovely assistant'."

Then there was a picture of him, without the mask, and a small description that he came from France and was a musician and magician. Then portrayals of the other actors of the show, every time one normal looking one and deformed one together.

"Only last year he made a whole page for 'Meg Giry and the O La La Girls'," Meg sighed, "And that only to ease his guilty conscience because of his relapse in his drug addiction."

Christine shook her head. "I don't understand why you love him. To me he was so... wonderful, loving... but he treated you really badly, so why do you love him?"  
"Wait until you see him at 'Meet the Stars' - how patiently he plays with the children, answers their questions, entertains them with tricks and music and stories. He loves to see the kids and their hero worship for the freaks. What he does for the freaks is great - he can be really selfless and caring. But he has a very strong dark side and he is a selfish bastard most of the time. Sometimes I wonder if all this 'I'm the good guy, I only want to help my fellow freaks' demeanor is only a clever way to manipulate the crowds. Sometimes I think he is genuine," Meg gave a heavy sigh, "Well, I suppose I'm going to find out now that I am his wife. He simply can't ignore me now."

In the meantime the Vicomte - after bringing Gustave to bed in the hotel - ended up at a bar only to find Erik already sitting there. He smirked.  
"May I join you or do you plan to drink this bottle alone?" Raoul asked.  
"Be my guest," Erik answered, not wanting to fight any longer. He had lost and wanted to drown his sorrow.  
"You know that I will stop drinking," Raoul said, "When we are back in Paris I will go to a doctor and ask for treatment. I don't like it but it is necessary. So this will be my last full intoxication."  
Erik snatched a glass from behind the bar and filled it. "The first week of the withdrawal is the worst, then it gets better. Don't go to any parties were your drug is being served for the first six month. The first six month the craving is the worst, but it gets better then."  
"How do you... O. I'm sorry. May I ask what your drug was?"  
"Morphine to calm me down and cocaine to turn me up," Erik answered honestly. Why bother deny it now? Everyone in Phantasma knew and if Raoul and Christine asked long enough they would get it anyway. "If you want my advise - don't try it. It's a hellish combination of vices, it nearly killed me and made me do things I deeply regret."

"I didn't plan to," the Vicomte replied and took a sip. Erik was obviously already a few glasses ahead of him.

"Do you know were our wives are?" Erik asked.  
"I have no idea. Christine said she wanted to talk with Meg from one woman to another."  
Erik chuckled. "I guess they are discussing how to get their husbands under control. Well, I think they really can learn from each other now."  
Raoul grinned and raised his glass: "To our wives - may yours chain you up so you keep away from mine!"  
"Cheers"

Raoul emptied his glass and took the bottle to refill it. "We have another matter to discuss," he stated seriously.  
"I don't know what that would be?"  
"You don't?" Raoul raised his eyebrows, "Didn't you boast to be Gustave's father? If you are, you have to pay alimony. Here is the deal - Christine and I take Gustave back to Paris. We tell him that you are just an old friend of his mother. When he's grown up, we tell him the truth and let him decide. But I want you to do your duty and pay alimony."  
Erik nodded. "It would be better for the boy for now. I agree with that. But I want to see him, want to write him and want to... establish a friendship with him. You could come to Coney Island for holiday each year. I can't go back to Paris, you know why."  
"No, not your playground. Neutral territory. We could spend two weeks a year at the same place, maybe England, Scotland, Ireland, Spain, whatever. But only if you have your wive and your mother in law with you."  
"Mistrustful boy!"  
"Just being reasonable."

They glared at each other, then Erik gave in with a sigh. He did not have any choice in that matter, he had to take whatever he could get.  
"So, let's discuss the alimony. 20.000 Franc a month wouldn't be too much to ask," Raoul stated, a vicious grin on his face as he emptied another glass.  
"Are you mad?" Erik yelled, "Do you know how much money that is, how hard I have to work to earn..." He trailed off as he noticed what he had just said. "O. I see. You are taking it upon yourself to avenge the managers. Now, seriously: How much?"  
"20.000 Franc a month," Raoul insisted and poured them another two glasses. He enjoyed that very much. "Or you will never see Gustave again."  
"That's blackmail!"  
"That's rich, coming from you!"  
Erik stared at him, then he had to rethink what they had said and finally gave in laughing. "Yes, I guess you are right. But why do you ask 20.000 no more, no less?"  
"I like the poetic justice of it," Raoul answered grinning, "You, the former Phantom of the Opera, now manager of a... theater of some sorts, being blackmailed to pay 20.000 Franc a month. I just regret that I will never be able to tell Andre and Firmin!"  
"Okay, but if business runs bad I want to reduce the amount," the former Phantom reluctantly agreed.  
"Very well, but only if you refund me for the last ten years," the Vicomte was in his business mode now. He was drunk, but still able to think.  
"No. Certainly not. Forget that. Six month," obviously Erik had the same ability of thinking in spite of his intoxication.  
"Two years."  
"Make a bet?" Erik offered, hoping to lure the young man into another trap.  
"No, thank you, I'm done gambling." The Vicomte surely was cured from gambling in any way.

"Okay, 20.000 a month plus 240.000 for the last two years. I agree. But to ensure that the money is solely spend on Gustave's behalf I will send it to Christine and you will have no access to it," Erik offered, "But I need time - I can't pay 240.000 at once. Rates of... let me see... 60.000 a year?"  
"Done!"

Now that they had agreed on that, Erik asked if it was true that Raoul lost much money in gambling.  
Raoul gave a bitter laugh: "Actually no. Stock investments."  
"Stock investments? That's the same as gambling only with less fun," Erik retorted.  
"Why do you say so?" the Vicomte asked.  
"Because, my naive misguided friend, there are rogues such as me who know how to place a fraud. I found a company, hire someone as a director, place all the responsibility on him, tell everyone about a new enterprise and then sell the shares, take the money. Then the director runs off and it turns out to be a fraud but by that time I don't even have one share of the company and the prosecutor hunts the director. There are enough adventurers who want to leave the country and need money."  
This was a far too elaborate explanation to just come out of nowhere. "You actually did this, didn't you?"  
"Trice. But I can't risk doing it again or the judge won't be able to look the other way. Horse racing is much better," Erik smirked and refilled their glasses again. The bottle was empty so he signaled the barman to give them another bottle.  
"Horse racing? How can you manipulate a horse race?"  
"Bribing all jockeys," Erik explained proudly, "Let's say I place a bet 1:1000 on a certain ranking, let's say six horses and I bet 1.000. I win, I get one million. If I have to give two-third of the profit to the jockeys I still have 333.000. Nice profit, isn't it?"  
Raoul tried to understand the calculation. Obviously the alcohol was already affecting his thinking.

"Of course I can't do that too often," Erik said.

That moment Christine and Meg returned. At first they were happy to see that Erik and Raoul were not fighting but laughing together but then they noticed the way both men sat at the bar, leaning on the bar and their speech was slurred. They were stinking drunk, both of them.

"Raoul! You promised not to drink again!" Christine yelled at him, grabbing his collar and dragging him to his feet.  
"Se las im," Raoul slurred, "pro - hick - mise"  
"What?"  
"The last time, I promise," Raoul repeated, this time intelligible.

Meg grabbed Erik's sleeve and tried to drag him away. "This is our wedding night! Aren't you ashamed? You need to go to bed now. Come on!"  
Erik grabbed his glass and emptied it in one gulp. "Don't you dare tell me what to do, woman!" he snarled but it would have sounded far more menacing if he hadn't leaned on her for support that heavily.

Meg shot Christine a glance who was struggling to get Raoul out of his chair. "I suppose it's our own fault," she said, "We have chosen them."  
"Sometimes I wonder if the world would be a better place if there were no men at all," Christine sighed.

Meg retorted grinning: "No. That would be no fun at all."

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 _I never thought I would write a LND fanfiction, but when I saw the musical I only thought just how stupid Meg acts - she has ten years to learn from a master of deception and what does she do? Kidnap a child and threaten to kill herself. Well, I thought what if she had some brains and did something clever instead of stupid? It might even get her what she wants - and in the end all the women get exactly what they want. So I came up with this story.  
Raoul and Erik both get what they deserve in the end and there is a certain hope that everything will get better in the future. I like happy endings.  
Well, I don't think Erik is just a poor misunderstood good guy, I think he's a bad guy but he has redeeming qualities in his character. He's a bad guy but a loveable bad guy._

 _PLEASE REVIEW! I'd really love to know what you think of my story!_


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